Beyond Succeeding
by LibertyRoll
Summary: L has finally chosen his successor, though it seems that BB has kidnapped a boy from the far corners of the north. After all, if L is a genius, B's an extreme genius. If L needs a successor, B needs an extreme successor. - Alternate beginning to DN.
1. Introduction

**Hey guys - so I'm back with my BB fic! Finally. I've been writing small fics with Deborah (my OC from Dear Dear Mello for those of you who don't know), but I've just started really thinking about this guy. Anyway, I hope you like this one as much as people liked DDM. It's an alternate beginning to Death Note, and we'll see if I can't get you to look at Near differently now. Haha.**

**Anyway, here we are at the Introduction! Hope you like it. Please be sure to review!**

---------------------

Blue screens illuminated the room. Large as it was, it seemed small due to the enormous amount of clutter that was filling the room to the brink. Books, video tapes, boxes of paperwork, everything and anything that could be thought of that would be included in an investigation was in this room. Every table had some form of paper product on it and the many TV screens were playing back various security camera recordings.

The room was almost silent, save for two distinct noises. The definite hum of several computers infiltrated the air, like the sound of a hundred bees, and also the periodic sound of crunching, licking, "aah"ing, or even the occasional sigh was also heard. These sounds came, not from one of the computers but from the man in front of them. Tall as he was, he seemed short due to his being hunched over. His dark eyes that seemed to bulge out of his head stared at the screens, reading over immense amount of information as if he was glancing at a child's storybook. The noises emanated from his lips, which, if they didn't have some form of sweet sustenance in them, he kept encircled around his thumb tip.

This man was alone for the moment, as he usually was, and was quite happy to be. Or he would be if he hadn't run out of sweets. No matter, his helper Watari would be by soon enough with another cart full of them. In the meantime, however, the tall man fiddled with his shirt hem; he wore a plain white long-sleeved shirt and faded jeans, and nothing else. He never really cared to keep track of what he wore so he'd just bought twenty of the same thing. Hardly important.

What was important now was that, even though this man was taking in an enormous amount of information, he was incredibly bored. There was a sudden decrease in cases that interested him lately, and so he had some extra space in his brain at the moment. So it was decided.

The entrance to the room opened and in came the Watari afore mentioned. Medium in height, the aging man wore a suit and was neatly groomed. He pushed a medium-sized cart that was completely covered in sweet things, save for one half-hearted attempt at variety (though he knew that his charge would probably ignore it completely.) "Ryuzaki, how are you doing?" the man asked in a fatherly tone.

The man addressed as Ryuzaki sighed. "To tell you the truth, Watari, I'm rather bored." He reached over and grabbed the angel food cake from the tray before continuing. "Because we've had less cases coming in recently, I think now would be the best time."

Watari nodded. "Shall I call the home, then?"

"Please do. Thank you."

The older man headed out of the room once again, leaving the raven haired one alone. Ryuzaki took the chance to flick a button on his keyboard and bring up the image of a young boy from the "home" Watari mentioned. This home was Wammy's House and its main purpose was to find Ryuzaki's successor as the greatest detective in the world. The boy on screen was the first in line of succession and was the one that Ryuzaki had decided on, though, really, there wasn't anyone else he could think of that would be better.

No, that isn't accurate.

There was two others that Ryuzaki had hoped could succeed him, but one had committed suicide and the other had run away, murdered three people, attempted suicide, and was now in a prison all because of his attempt to surpass, not succeed, Ryuzaki. Those two had been A and B. This child Ryuzaki looked at now was different than those two had been. Those two had been emotional and their inability to control their emotions had been their undoing. The child Ryuzaki now saw on the screen was emotional, true, but had exemplified the ability to control himself, to stay calm in the face of fear, adversity and stress. He seemed almost fearless to the great detective, though, to be sure, all children at age 13 have something they must be afraid of.

Ryuzaki smiled as he plopped a chunk of cake in his mouth. Sweet. He had heard this child also had a sweet tooth; they should get along just fine. "Mello, successor to L."

-----------------------

**Thanks for reviewing! ;)**


	2. And so they met

**Alright, so here we go - getting our nails dug into the story. We're not seeing any Near or BB yet, but they're going to be appearing soon (I hope). This chapter isn't too long, but I liked it enough to stop here, so I hope you like it too! :)**

**As always, reviews are more than appreciated! **

**--------------**

Quillish Wammy had just arrived at Wammy's house after a none-too-terrible flight from Milan, and he now stood in Roger's office. Roger, an old time friend of Quillish, was the headmaster at Wammy's house, the orphanage that Wammy had established, and the man had now gone to retrieve a singular child. The room that Quillish Wammy (or, as we shall from this point onward refer to him as, Watari, for that was who he was) stood in was rather large and ancient feeling. Large bookshelves jammed with various literatures from various eras as well as an oversized desk that was neat and tidy. That was just like Roger.

Watari didn't have to wait very long for about after ten minutes after Roger had left, he returned with a small boy who was dressed in a black t-shirt and dark washed jeans. The boy was about 5"2' and had shoulder length blond hair. His piercing blue eyes locked onto Watari as the he entered the room, and the older man noted that the boy's intensity. He moved confidently, obviously wary of whom this stranger in Roger's office might be, but surely enough.

"Mello, please take a seat," Roger offered, standing next to Watari, who stood at the desk's edge, straight as a board as always. As the child obeyed, slumping into a chair with an eye still on Watari, Roger began to explain it with an air of resignation. "Mello, this is Watari."

The boy's eyes widened almost undetectably in surprise, but said nothing, either from excitement or from being unsure as to how to respond. The boy was familiar with the name, and he knew that "Watari" was L's right-hand man.

After a moment, Watari finally spoke up in a formal tone, as though he were some principal talking to his student, explaining why it was expected that all students paid attention during class. "I'm here on behalf of L. He has been watching you for a long time, Mello, and it is his wish that you come with me to train directly under him as successor."

If the two older men had been expecting some kind of energetic response, they would have been disappointed. Mello said nothing. Mello did nothing. In fact, they weren't sure that he was even breathing for a small moment. He just stared at Watari, his eyes substantially wider, though clearly out of focus. He looked as if he'd just been told he was voted president of Hershey's Chocolates. No, the look on his face topped even that. Chocolate wasn't even worth comparing to this. His life long dream had just been achieved; his ultimate goal had been reached. Those years of hard work, competing with Matt had come to a head and he would be traveling within hours to meet his idol.

After a moment of silence, Roger finally voiced a mild concern. "Mello, will you go?"

"Of course," Mello replied, not leaving any room between the question and the reply and jumping to his feet. "When can we leave?"

"As soon as you can make yourself ready," Watari explained, causing Mello to almost fly out of the room. "As well as say your goodbyes."

Just at the door handle, Mello froze. Goodbyes? He'd apparently been so excited that he'd forgotten all about that sad aspect. Mello looked back at Watari. "I understand, but will I come back here once in a while to visit?"

A grave air stalked into the room when neither man replied for a while making Mello's gut sink, and when Watari finally did reply gently of course, Mello almost seemed to wince. "If you do come back, it won't be for a long time."

Mello spun his gaze to the door handle, absorbing the implications of Watari's reply. Not that he had a lot of friends, but he definitely had a few he would miss, especially Matt. Not seeing them ever again was a probability. Nonetheless, Mello grabbed at the handle and raced down to his room, nearly tripping over the stairs on his way up, to pack up his life.

Back in the office, Roger and Watari couldn't help but smile, Watari because he'd finally have a new charge to take care of and Roger because one of his most troublesome students would finally be leaving.

-------------

Leaving the orphanage had gone smoothly; Mello had almost cried when he said his goodbyes, though he claimed that there was something in his eye. The children of Wammy's were not told why Mello was leaving, though most of them had a guess. Of course he'd be going to L. After goodbyes were made, Mello sat in the back of a modest black limo with Watari, who began briefing the child as to what to expect, schedule-wise. The older man figured that no amount of preparation would ready Mello well enough to actually meet the odd man known to the world as L, so he made no attempt at it.

Even when Mello asked, "What is he like, Watari?" Watari just smiled and replied "Like something out of a dream." Mello could well believe it.

The plane ride and pick up from the Milan Airport went smoothly. From the airport, Watari and Mello traveled by train to Brescia, a smaller city, but not small by any standard, and they arrived at an obscure hotel before nightfall.

"Well, here we are, Mello. I'll bet you're hungry." Watari said as they wandered through the hotel lobby. He took a glance at the boy who was by his side and noticed a slight tremor in his anxious hands. The older man smiled and put a hand on either of Mello's shoulders, looking him warmly in the eyes. "Don't be afraid, Mello," he said, as a grandfather to his grandson. "Ryuzaki is already very proud of you."

Mello stared into Watari's eyes, hands still gripping each other, eyes intense. "Y-yeah?" It was a simple question, but carried the weight of a world or self-doubt and anxiety in it.

"Of course, else you would not be here. He is not one to settle for second-best."

The sentence was as effective at diffusing Mello's doubt as a rifle gun was at popping a balloon. Mello relaxed just as a voice rang out from behind him, deeper into the lobby.

"Of course, why would I settle when I could have the best?"

Mello's heart stopped at the voice, and Watari stood up straight. "Ryuzaki, here he is."

Mello's heart now began pounding as he heard the man behind him advance to a point just behind him. The child gripped the edge of his sweater, gulped his nerves down and prepared himself to finally lay eyes on the man he'd dreamt of succeeding all his life.

And he turned slowly, nervously, until the man came into view. Tall, though hunched over, bulging eyes that look as if he hadn't slept in years, plain clothes minus the socks, and the darkest, wildest hair Mello had ever seen. He stared into his idol's face for a moment, taking it all in.

Watari had been right; he _was_ something out of a dream, though not as Mello had first thought.

The two took each other in, Mello staring at Ryuzaki, hands twisted into his sweater, Ryuzaki staring at Mello, a thumb in his mouth. Neither said anything for a moment until finally Ryuzaki murmured, "Welcome, Mello. You've finally arrived."

At this, Mello threw his arms around Ryuzaki's skinny neck in a hug and the black-haired man put a hand around his successor's waist, holding the boy close. They were both very skinny, Ryuzaki noted. He'd expected Mello would do this, and so it came as no surprise to him, even when Mello nuzzled his face in his black hair. The child smelled like chocolate, which sent a wave of craving over Ryuzaki.

Once they parted, Mello smiled sheepishly. "Sorry," he muttered, rubbing an arm.

Ryuzaki shook his head as he put a hand on one of Mello's shoulders. "I understand you like chocolate, Mello."

The younger blond stared blankly at the older raven. "Uh, yeah," was all he could stammer in reply.

"Good," Ryuzaki replied, grabbing one of Mello's hands and yanking the boy up the hotel's stairs. "Then we shall have some."

Watari just shook his head in disapproval of Ryuzaki's eating habits and began instructing the bellboy as to where the bags needed to be dropped off.

**--------**

**Thanks for reading - please review!**


	3. L's Unorthodox Methods

**Alright guys - sorry this one took so long. Mello just didn't want me to write him. Haha. That and I've been really busy being sick and being... busy in general. In any case, here it is, chapter 3! I bet you guys'll like this one, actually.**

**And, as usual, reviews and constructive critisism are always appreciated. :)**

------------------

Mello was half dragged to a room on the fourth floor of the hotel by his mentor who was impatient for that chocolate craving to be satisfied and was bolting as fast as Mello could keep up with. The door to the room seemed almost like a form of portal to the small thirteen-year-old boy to some unknown universe, though he only had half a second to marvel before it was nearly burst from its hinges as Ryuzaki marched into the room, finally letting go of Mello's wrist when they crossed the threshold. Mello treaded into the room lightly, closing the door behind him before endeavoring to venture further into the room. Instead of rushing to the older man's side when the door was shut, he stayed put watching Ryuzaki from a distance. Watching him perch in his chair, watching him stuff sweet chocolates in his mouth, watching as the man slowly, slowly devoured the unsuspecting sweets in a methodical play of almost boyish-like play.

Mello's watching turned into a stare, a long and all consumed, wide-eyed stare, learning his mentor's oddities.

It took a moment of Ryuzaki's momentary blind eye for Mello to feel slightly awkward just standing and staring at his idol. Whether it was the relief of Ryuzaki's chocolate craving or the sound of the small fidgeting behind him, the raven spun his chair around to look at the small blond. "No need to be formal, Mello. Come and have a cake!"

It was at this point that Mello noticed the large tray next to L. It was composed of three layers, each being filled to the brim with various sweets, mostly sweeter fruit items, but some cakes and... chocolate? The allure of the bittersweet treat was too much for the young boy and he caved, walking over to the tray and picking up a dark coloured, obviously chocolate item. The smell of it was just enough to drive Mello crazy and the sweet, smooth taste melted his anxiety away, causing him to sink into a nearby chair, his head falling back into his seat's head, his eyes closed.

"You must be tired," Ryuzaki began stacking sugar cubes on the desk in front of him. "I'm afraid I detest traveling myself. But it is a necessity." Two cubes, three cubes, four cubes.

Mello cracked an eye to look at L once again and smiled lightly. "Yes, I guess so."

Five cubes, and then the sugar cube tower collapsed, consequently earning their drowning into a pool of tea, as well as five to ten other cubes that shared the same fate. L picked up the cup with his thumb and index, as if it were covered in something unpleasant, and sipped, letting out a sigh of contentment when the liquid began its slide down the man's skinny esophagus. "Well, then, I suppose you should be getting some sleep before we begin," Ryuzaki commented, though his tone was firm. This was not a request. It was not a suggestion. Mello understood that it was an order and was partial to obey. He did want to stay up with L for a bit longer. After all, this was the man he'd been working for ten years to meet, to succeed. However, as L had pointed out, Mello was exhausted and was not in any condition to take in any information at the time and so when L had summoned Watari, the grandfatherly figure escorted Mello to one of the rooms that the hotel suite was equipped with.

"This will be your room while we are at this hotel," he explained to the blond, who had already crawled onto the twin-sized bed. "If you need anything at all, there's a button on the table next to the bed, which will make my cell phone ring."

"Where are my bags?" Mello asked with a large yawn following it.

"Everything is being brought up to the room, but we'll sort it out tomorrow. For the time being, I've placed some pajamas in the washroom for you." Mello nodded, rolling onto his side. The bed was soft enough, but occupying the boy's thoughts was L and Watari could see it in the blond boy's face. "Has he quelled your apprehension, Mello?"

Mello did not respond right away, but instead stared at the door to his bedroom for a moment. "Yes," he eventually replied.

Watari smiled at the boy and then turned to leave the room. "When you wake up tomorrow, feel free to press the button. I'll bring your breakfast in here if you wish."

Mello nodded, and Watari left the boy alone, closing the door behind him. The blond boy sat up on his bed, let out a big yawn and scrambled into the washroom where he showered shortly, brushed his teeth, and changed into those pajamas that had been left for him. As he climbed into bed, he began to wonder how the next few days would proceed? What was L really like? Mello could tell that the man was odd by anyone's standards, but Mello could still see that there was brilliance in him, even with a meeting as short as theirs had been. Sheer brilliance defined as L, and Mello was privileged to work under him, with him, and, eventually, as him. A huge task to anyone, but Mello no longer felt nervous about it. Luckily for him, else he would not have been able to sleep that night.

But he did fall asleep without any major trouble and his mind and body slept soundly, as they had not for years.

Mello's first day was like something out of a horror movie for the young successor, though just a normal day for the predecessor. The reason? Though Mello had been training to think and reason like a detective for most of his life, very seldom had he thought to prepare himself for photos.

L hadn't intended to start Mello on a case for two days yet; the original plan was to get the poor boy used to L and his new schedule and then give him a case to work on under L's supervision. During the two days Mello was to adjust, Ryuzaki had planned to finish off a different case so that he could have more room in his brain to learn about Mello's needs and quirks. Good plan, surely.

However, after he'd finished with that specific case, he'd left the file on the table where Watari picked them up and would file them away. Before that could happen, Mello happened to pass by and, curious as to the kind of work his idol worked on on a regular basis, he picked it up and took a look through it.

Too bad the file's contents were so graphic that it sent Mello running to the washroom to puke.

During which, L scurried over to the door to await the boy's exit. When he did, the boy was obviously embarrassed and kept his eyes on the floor. Ryuzaki, one thumb on his lips, used his free hand to pat the boys head. "Perhaps we can come up with a grading system so you know which files would not incur another incident such as this."

He began moving back to his computer when he felt a small tug on the back of his shirt, causing him to look at the boy once again. The blond was obviously regretting his action and his eyes stayed firmly on the floor. "I'm sorry for peeking at the file," he said.

The older man smiled slightly. "Why should you be?" he questioned, earning Mello's gaze upwards. "After all, no one told you not to look at the file and when you came here, you were granted access to all that is here. And besides," at this point L ruffled Mello's hair a bit. "Curiosity and a will to learn are some of the reasons you are here. Now, let's find you some ginger ale."

And with this, the two walked to the kitchen area, where they found Watari cutting up various snacks. The oldest man took one look at Mello, and then a slightly suspicious look at Ryuzaki, and then went to the fridge to pour the young boy a glass of fizzy stomach meds in a cup.

"Perhaps you should sit down," Watari advised as he handed the glass to the now calm and slightly green Mello who moved trotted off to the main room, out of the kitchen, in obedience. As soon as he was gone, Watari sighed and continued cutting up various vegetables and fruits. "What did you let him see, Ryuzaki?"

"I merely left a file that I'd finished with on the table for you," L responded dryly. "I did not tell him to look at it."

"You knew he'd look at it," Watari said, not in rebuke, but very close to it.

Ryuzaki did not answer directly, but instead watched Watari cutting celery sticks. "I wanted to see how he'd react."

"Which file was it?"

"The Inside-Out murders file."

At this Watari stopped chopping at stared at Ryuzaki. "That is the most graphic case you've handled in years. Why that file?"

L shrugged. "Why not that file?" he replied and walked out the door, almost walking into an eavesdropping Mello. Instead of getting offended, L walked right by him, a small smile on his face. Mello, who was less that jubilant about being a test subject, walked into the kitchen and sat on a chair by the counter.

"One thing you might have to get used to," Watari began to explain, resuming his food preparations, "Is that Ryuzaki's methods of gathering information are not always orthodox." Watari glanced at Mello who was sipping at the ginger ale, his brow furrowed in thought. "You might have to expect a few more 'tests.'"

Mello shivered. "Why doesn't he just ask me instead of using me like a guinea pig?"

Watari smiled. "People have a tendency to lie, Mello. Aside from that, would you have been able to answer if he asked you 'How would you react to highly graphic images?'"

Mello chewed on the edge of his glass, processing the statement. "No, I guess not."

In the next room, L sat in front of his computer stacking marshmallows. Thoughts raced through his mind at an alarmingly slow pace. Most of the cases he was working on had been completed in time for Mello's arrival and now he just had a few to work on, though none of them were in the forefront of his mind. Instead his thoughts wandered to the would-be successor that failed.

With Mello's arrival, L had been constantly reminded of his failed attempt, Backup. Backup had been another child that L had considered for succession but had turned renegade. He'd attempted to surpass L by creating an unsolvable case but had underestimated the matter and had been apprehended on the verge of success.

Backup now resided in a prison in Los Angeles and would reside there for the rest of his life for the murder of three innocents: Believe Bridesmaid, Quarter Queen, and Backyard Bottomslash. Every so often, Ryuzaki would hack into the prison's surveillance systems and check on Backup, otherwise known as B from Wammy's House.

L sighed to himself and began the process. It had been a while since he'd checked in on the now young-adult, and the detective figured that he was slightly overdue. The hacking didn't take long and he was looking at B shortly.

He was a sad figure, leaning against a wall, drawing with a finger in midair. L could hear mumbling coming from the boy in the prison. Often he'd hear "L" or "out" or "up" but couldn't make out what it was the B was working out.

Looking closer at the boy, L could see that he'd paled considerably, his skin nearly white from lack of sun. Not that B had ever really been an athletic boy. L remembered reports of B from Wammy's days of how he'd spend hours in the library learning and relearning information on biology, criminology, psychology, along with many other subjects. Top in most of his classes, the boy was brilliant. He possessed an extreme drive that any real candidate of L must possess, along with that little piece of je-ne-sais-quoi that was also necessary. B was just special.

But now he was just a criminal, to be locked up for the rest of his life.

L sighed and shut off the monitor, convinced that Backup, B, Beyond Birthday was all right.

However, what L didn't know was that Beyond Birthday was birthing a plan that was a year and a half in the making. Ever since his arrival at the prison, he'd been mapping everything. Drain pipes, air vents, windows, electrical systems, anything and everything was mapped out in that brain of his.

His escape plan was almost complete.

He knew exactly how to get out of the facility, but now he needed to plan how to get away from the prison and where he needed to go to ensure that he would not be caught. Or at least, not right away.

-------

**dun dun duuuuh.**

**Please do review. :)**


	4. Someone goes Missing

**Sure it's short. That's alright. At least it's up, right? Anyway, here we go, chapter four. I actually finished this guy yesterday but I decided to sleep on it and reread it today to make sure it made sense. I have been relitively brain-dead these last four days, so I had to run this chapter by a friend first and then reread it again.**

**Anyway, I have a bit of time on my hands so let's see if I can't get one more chapter done by saturday. :)**

**---------------**

In light of L's first personality test, the rest of the assessments were relatively harmless and Mello didn't mind them as much. Besides that, he'd got over the first one rather well, and was in a pretty good mood for the first two days which he spent almost constantly by L's side. The first day he'd been given a tour around the computer systems, being shown set ups, given pass-codes and what not. The basics.  
He'd also spent the two days getting used to the new diet. At Wammy's he'd been told what he could eat and when he had to eat it. Now Watari had set up meals to Mello's personal internal rhythm and fancy. This didn't even apply to his eating patterns specifically, but also his sleep needs as well as exercise and many other aspects. He'd sleep when he was tired, eat when he was hungry, run when he needed to burn off steam, and observe when he needed to learn. He'd go at his own pace, making him all the more effective.  
And then day three came along and it was time for the detective and his two companions to move to another hotel across Italy in Rome. The packing was done for L and Mello who needed to focus on not being seen or noticed as they left their current hotel, though this proved to be no major task. They were outside for a whole ten seconds getting into the backseat of the limo that would take them to their new home and then they were out of sight once again.  
Just after the car drove off, L handed Mello a small folder which Mello took with much reluctance. L thought this was justified. "This is to be your first case," the raven explained to his small companion. "Don't worry, there won't be anything in there you can't handle, visually."  
With this reassurance, Mello slowly opened the file, sighing slightly when he saw its contents. It was a drug smuggling case. No photos except for a few mug shots on profiles of suspected connections in the case.  
L watched as Mello sifted through all the information and smiled when he saw a few of his mannerisms being used; handling papers with a thumb and index finger, the method of sorting information into messy piles, pausing after looking through all the files to process. Behind the boy's closed eyes, L could see Mello fitting the pieces of the puzzle together, almost visually, in his mind.  
The predecessor was very tempted to ask for Mello's thoughts, though he knew that this would distract the boy and would be more of a hinder than a help so he kept quiet. Surely Mello would let him in the loop soon enough.  
Suddenly, Mello reached for the laptop that had access to government files and got into the RCMP's database. L almost grinned when he saw the criminal ring's leader pop up on the screen. "This is him, right?" Mello asked. "You already looked into this case, so you already know that it is."  
L put a hand on Mello's shoulder. "You are right. I'm almost surprised that you were able to solve this with so little time."  
"It's not like this is a hard case," Mello muttered. "The police could have handled this fine." It was apparent to the boy that L had chosen the easiest case possible from his databank.  
"Very true," L admitted. No use in hiding the truth. "But it took them two weeks."  
Mello smirked at that delicious detail. "Two weeks, huh?" He perked as L offered him a chocolate bar.  
"Congratulations on your first case," L said as Mello took the bar from his fingers freeing them to grab a sweets kabob for himself.  
"So can I have a better case next?" Mello asked dryly with a piece of chocolate in his mouth, obscuring his speech. "I mean, come _on."_  
L smiled. "You'll have your choice when we get to Rome, how about that?"  
Mello grinned and continued to chomp on his chocolate.

The rest of the trip was spent in almost silence as Mello dozed off and L typed away at something on his computer, scouting out new hands and feet within different organizations throughout the world. By the time the car arrived at the hotel, Ryuzaki had performed over two hundred background checks and cleared about five agents as potential helpers. After waking Mello up, he called Watari to check his progress. Much to L's satisfaction, Watari had already checked them in (he'd taken a much more direct path to Rome than the detective and his successor had) so they could get right out of the car and into the room.  
There was relatively little setup to do before L and Mello could resume their work, but not before they had eaten dinner and after Mello had a nap on the couch. Afterwards, L brought Mello over to the workspace and sat him in front of a computer. "This is your laptop and on it is loaded a system that will give you ten new cases for you to choose from every week. Work on as many or as few as you like at any time. When you've finished a case, please forward the data to me and give me the file to look over." L smiled when Mello practically attacked the computer looking up the system. "We will go over your cases and how you did weekly."  
Mello grinned. "Right," he agreed, scanning through the available cases.  
L squatted in a nearby chair in front of his own laptop. "As you improve, more and more opportunities will present themselves. Work hard."  
The young boy nodded curtly. Satisfied that L had explained the new system well enough, he turned his own attention to his own screen where the information of roughly 15 different cases currently open.

And so the detective and his charge worked side by side, occasionally exchanging words, often sharing snacks, Mello sleeping every twenty hours or so though Ryuzaki barely ever.  
And they continued peacefully until January 11 when Watari came in unscheduled during a mealtime. Both L and Mello were in mid-meal, something halfway in both their mouths. Watari thought it looked so amusing that he might have burst out laughing if his matter of business wasn't so serious.  
And somehow L detected the anxiety brewing in his helper. "For goodness sake, Watari, what's the matter?"  
Watari had burst through the room's doors and had almost smashed them from their hinges. He'd run from the floor above where his own room was located. "Ryuzaki, Backup has disappeared."  
Mello, unawares of who "backup" was or why he was important, was strangely confused and looked to L. The sight was strange to Mello; L's eyes had widened and the fork he had been holding had dropped to the table with a clunk.  
After a moment, L scrambled from his place on the couch to his computer, typing furiously. Mello watched as one of the monitors changed to show an empty prison cell and as L, consequently, slumped  
in his chair letting his legs down. After a moment of silence and of Mello's glancing between Watari and L, L quietly spoke, "Watari, please make arrangement to go to America. No, to go to Los Angeles. We must leave as soon as possible."  
"Yes, of course," Watari replied, turning and leaving the room without another word, Mello staring after him. The blond quietly made his way over to Ryuzaki and sat in the chair next to him saying nothing.  
"Backup," L muttered quietly, staring at the ceiling, "was a Wammy's House child like you. He ran away and attempted to challenge me with an unsolvable case by killing three people and then attempting to kill himself."  
Mello processed this new information. "To surpass you?"  
L was quiet. "Mello, you need to wrap up all the cases you're working on as soon as you can. We're leaving, probably tomorrow."  
Mello nodded. "Okay," he replied, moving back to the couch to snarf down the remainder of his dinner so that he could cram the rest of his third case.

6000 miles away, Beyond Birthday headed north.

**---------**

**Well here you go. Please review! Thanks.**


	5. Purple polos and missing license plates

**So, lucky for you guys, I've got some time off and I can write a lot more. I have a lot of time on my hands so I can think through things more. Hopefully I'm keeping the quality up to par for you guys. Haha.**

**Most of you are wondering when Near is coming into this thing. Well, he's on his way, so stop your worrying. I actually hope to have him in next chapter (belive me, I want him in here as bad/worse than y'all do) so the next person to ask for him gets an L kick in the face. ;) Also, how hard do I have to beg for reviews? I don't ask for them because I like the ego stroke - I ask for them because I want to know your thoughts thus far? What did you like, what didn't you like, what confused you, etc... Haha, maybe that's a bit much to ask, right? Anyway, CAKE WITH L FOR EVERYONE WHO REVIEWS THIS CHAPTER.**

**------**

It took some doing, but within thirty hours, Beyond Birthday was out of the United States and into southern British Columbia. How did he manage to do this with a stolen car, you might ask? It was a simple task for the man who'd been planning his escape for roughly 500 days. In fact, he actually stole three cars, along with several license plates of cars that weren't stolen (as far as he could tell) and replaced the license plates of the un-stolen cars onto the actual vehicles that he had used. After all, who checks to make sure their license plates aren't stolen? Hopefully by the time the cars' owners noticed, he'd be long gone.

So roughly twenty-four hours after he broke out of the Los Angeles prison, Beyond found himself at a small restaurant in Portland. Even Gods of Death have to eat sometime. Luckily for Beyond, there was a small amount of money in two of the three cars he'd stolen, enough to buy gas and a bit of food, so there he was. A mess. He'd managed to "acquire" some clothing at a store on his route at an extremely convenient price. And so, he was wearing a hodge-podge of stolen items though purple really wasn't his favorite colour and he never really liked polo's. But when you are a convict on the run, you don't have a lot of room to be picky.

He sat at a small table, usually for two, by the window of this small, run-down restaurant. Looking around the place, he noted a few shady characters (ironically enough) as well as a few couples out later than was probably moral (though Beyond didn't really care about that aspect, he was sure that it was unsafe for the girls to be out at three in the morning with obviously wasted men), as well as the small gaggle of staff currently on-duty, markedly the over-skinny blond waitress who was serving him. She had a limp when she walked and spoke in a fairly monotone manner, reminding him of someone he knew, though he couldn't quite remember who it was she reminded him of.

When she finally came up to Beyond to ask what he wanted, he merely replied with "A very dark coffee and a mound of fries... and a large side of any jam you can get a lot of." The order was peculiar, making the waitress' brow perk up, but Beyond Birthday was never a normal person by any standard. When he didn't say anything else, the waitress, Carla McCaddie her nametag read, turned tail and left Beyond alone who presently began fiddling with his hair.

He stared after the waitress, his face void of expression. He was obviously tired, but had more than that on his mind. "Forty five days," he muttered. "She's obviously decided that life isn't worth it anymore."

Indeed, forty five days Carla McCaddie would die. Beyond of Wammy's knew this, not because he had planned it (though, if it had suited his purposes, he'd kill her without a second thought) but because of those precious eyes of his. Though they appeared normal to the outside world, they most certainly weren't. Those blessed eyes of his saw the names of their carriers and the numbers of their lives. He never counted the eyes as a blessing (though they had helped him plan his attempt of succeeding L) nor counted them as a curse (though being surrounded with the reminder that some people are going to die very soon could be tiresome), but instead, Beyond Birthday regarded his eyes as a reality check.

Because all humans, without exception, will eventually die.

Whether or not that happens to some earlier than others is not is just plain luck in Beyond's eyes. It was not in anyone's control how long he or she lived because it's all been planned out. No matter how many times someone tries to commit suicide, if they are to live until 95, then their attempts will utterly end in failure.

Suicide. Beyond had tried and failed at it himself. The only person who was surrounded with the constant reminder of death was powerless to bring it on himself. Though he could see the numbers of all those around him, he was unable to see his numbers. "If only I was able to see the death of the world," he muttered to himself.

And then he shook his head, discarding this line of thought completely. He did not care for sentimentalism. All he cared about was the plan. When Carla finally did come with his order (fifty-two seconds longer than B had planned), there was not nearly enough jam and had her go back to get more and by the time she'd returned with the entire jar, the small bowl he'd received on the first run had been devoured. He caught the waitress' shiver out of the corner of his eye and smirked. She wasn't the first person to think that his method of eating jam with his own fingers was strangely macabre.

All the same, once his hunger was satisfied, he left enough money on the table and then hi-tailed it out of the restaurant, ignoring the staff when they bid him farewell. It was all a fake pleasantry anyway.

And then he sped to the boarder, though not fast enough to get pulled over, and made it to the Peace Arch Boarder crossing at roughly six in the morning on January 12th, Beyond Birthday ditched his stolen ride and crossed over the boarder under a dark cover of twilight through the trees on it's west side. And then he walked roughly ten hours to a small city and pulled the same stunt, stealing various vehicles and various license plates (though why they said "Beautiful British Columbia" on them was beyond B's comprehension.) and made his way further north.

----------------

Upon their arrival Los Angeles, L and Mello lost no time in getting on B's trail. L demanded that a list of all criminal activity in the last twenty-four hours be ready upon their arrival to the hotel. Even in the car, L was working on his laptop and insisted that Mello start looking through a small profile of B that L had gathered so he could be familiar with their suspect. Mello was in awe of the strange character in front of his eyes. The mug shot had been taken recently (about two weeks before he'd escaped) and showed a very young man (he was 19 years old), tall, paled skin from lack of sunlight, and dark grey eyes that looked as if they'd pop out from lack of sleep. His shaggy black hair would have fallen into his eyes if it hadn't been moved for the sake of the picture, Mello noted. He looked almost dead.

When they did finally arrive at the hotel, L anxiously asked for the criminal activity report, which Watari promptly provided him with. The list wasn't a long one and L had read it all in about a minute. He squatted in a chair, told Mello to sit down in the couch next to him and to look at the paper. With a pen, L put a small mark by ten out of 100 felons. "Why are these ones strange?" he asked Mello, who looked at the page.

At first, Mello couldn't see it. Then he looked closer. "Because who steals license plates? Or at least, for these ones."

"Yes. What about these?" L pointed to the three stolen vehicles that he'd marked.

Mello looked at the descriptions of the vehicles. "Two out of three were found... without any fingerprints in them?"

L nodded. "None at all. These are all fairly old cars and I doubt that the owners took such good care of their vehicles that they wiped them down so recently with gloves on. It's not impossible that this is the case, but as you know, in the previous case, B wiped the entirety of the murder scenes for finger prints, right down to the light sockets." At this point Watari brought the troubled detective and his charge snacks (much needed sugar for the elder and an assortment of chocolate covered fruit for the younger). L promptly stuck a large piece of melon in his mouth as Mello chose a small chocolate banana piece. They shared a quiet moment as their thoughts continued to think through the clues.

"The first car was found north of the prison, right?" Mello questioned, earning a nod from his mentor. "And the other car was found in a ditch, east of it... is there any way to determine which why he is headed from this?"

A thumb found its way to L's lips. "Not from this, though I have a pretty good idea which way he might go." At this, he jammed a thumb up in the air. "North."

Mello thought. "Because there are less people up north?"

L nodded slightly. "Yes, that and the obvious, that Canada won't let America execute him."

Mello rolled his eyes. Of course there was that reason too. Beyond was already serving life, and the only real punishment worse than that is execution. However, Canada had a history when finding America's criminals of withholding them until America promised (in writing) that they would not send said criminals to the electric chair. "Two very good reasons."

And with that, L hit a button on his laptop. "Mello, you need to be silent while I'm speaking, okay?" The blond nodded and watched as L made a call from the laptop. Eventually, someone picked up, "Boarder inspection."

"This is L," L stated. "Get the chief on the line." The boarder crossing guard paused for a moment before stuttering, "Y-yes, one m-moment please." A moment passed before another voice came on the line. "This is Chief Mason."

"Chief Mason, this is L. I need you to send out a search team for a red, 1993 Nissan Altima somewhere within a ten-kilometer radius of the boarder. An escaped convict from the Los Angeles County State Prison who broke out roughly thirty-five hours ago stole it. The plates on it may or may not match the papers in the vehicle, so I will give you a list of possible license numbers." As L read out a list of possible numbers, Mello listened, watched and observed his idol. He noted the human tone that L used, though only slightly human as for the most part it was flat. "...Also, I want you to have a check in the entirity of the lower mainland for this type of activity. The man who escaped is something of a sociopath, so he is a high-risk threat. Once you have found signs of these actions, please forward the information to the email address I gave you earlier."

"Yes, of course, L. Is there anything else?"

"No, that is all. Thank you for your cooperation." And with that, L cut the connection and leaned back in his chair as best he could in his crouched position. The blond apprentice could see the exhaustion in L's limp form and the mental toll that the long flight had taken. Mello paused before speaking.

"Hey, L, maybe you should get some sleep?"

L looked over at Mello, observing the boy's slightly concerned expression. It was almost cute. L smiled and merely replied, "even if I wanted to, sleep would not be attainable at the moment. A Wammy's House sociopath is on the loose. If he is caught by anyone other than me, it will mean trouble."

Mello looked away from L and at the screen of his laptop which still had Beyond Birthday's information up. Mello glanced through the information again briefly and caught the man's eyes. They weren't deadpan, like most of the mug shots Mello saw on a daily basis, but firey. Strangely lively for a serial killer. It creeped the blond out.

-----

**Thanks for reading and reviewing~~!**


	6. The 11year old ghost

**Guess what, folks - I've answered your prayers and guess who makes his appearance this chapter? About time, actually, seeing as this is my last day on my sick week. I got three chapters up this week - BE PROUD. From now on the submissions will be a bit more scattered, but not to worry! I'll still be around.**

**As always, I really appreciate reviews. :) Let me know your thoughts so far. **

**-----------------**

Within twenty-four hours of his first call to the boarder, L received information that the Nissan had been found and that two more vehicles had been stolen in an area called "White Rock"; a red, 1999 Ford Escort, found about ten kilometers away, though the plates were stolen and all prints completely wiped, as well as a black 1983 Toyota Camry which was still missing. A small gaggle of license plates had been stolen as well, though many of them turned up in a gentleman's mailbox the next city over.

From this information, it was difficult for L to deduce anything as to where B might be headed, though he had a hunch that the man would still head north. The percent was something close to 40% but there was still something nagging at L's mind that Beyond was northward bound and so L asked the RCMP to be on the lookout for that black Toyota, more urgently in the northern sections of the lower mainland and the interior.

Unfortunately for L, Beyond had already passed through the interior and was in the northern sections of the province. Specifically, just on the boarder of a small town he'd scouted out at his last pit stop. He'd ditched his car approximately an hour ago and had walked the rest of the way to an area close by that looked like he might be able to set up a small hideout of sorts. It was cold and snowy, sure, but that's what igloos are good for, right? If he did it right, it could be almost undetectable and rather large, enough for two.

Why would he need room for two? That was the entire point of his plan.

There was a certain town, roughly a three hour drive away from Whitehorse, that had a schooled population of roughly 350 students ranging from grades 0-12, and more often than not, the students were of average intelligence and completed studies at a normal rate. There was one exception. A strange boy, eleven years old. Usually, eleven-year-olds are sixth grade students, energetic, and more concerned about roughhousing in the outdoors that their studies. However, this boy would never go outside but he was as white as the snow. A special case, this boy, as he was already finishing the twelfth grade material with ease.

He wasn't very popular, and was an anomaly among the townspeople. Not just because of his unnatural intelligence and his ghost-like appearance, but also because he had been orphaned at a very young age. A kind, elderly pair who had been acquainted with his parents had taken him in and had done their best with him, but with such a child, such efforts were nearly fruitless as the boy rarely even came out of his room, save for meals. This child, anti-social by nature, was an unbelievably popular topic among the students of this small town, despite the infrequency that he actually visited the school, and he was almost infamous. "Hey, did you hear Nate got 100% on the midterm?" "No way! I almost flunked it and I studied non-stop!" "Yeah, but I bet he cheated." "Nah, Nate's too young to be that devious." "You think? How do you think his parents disappeared?"

And so on the rumors would spread. He wasn't a normal child, and, because of that, it was predetermined that he would be the center of unwanted attention.

On the morning of January 20th, the wife of the nice couple noticed Nate's absence from breakfast. She thought this was odd, but assumed that he had overslept or was working on something in his room, so she decided to knock on his door. When she received no reply, she assumed to former of her hypotheses, and proceeded to open the door to wake up the supposedly slumbering child.

However, he was not in his bed. He was not in his room. And after an exhaustive search, the lady could only conclude that he was not in the house. Her mind wandered to the reports of a strange man being in town lately and her heart nearly stopped when the possibility of kidnapping suggested itself.

And then she calmed herself; must she always assume the worst? She would go outside and look for him. After all, Nate was not the most audible of children. He probably went out to the store or to the school and had not left a note.

However, no matter how hard she looked for him, no matter where she searched, and no matter how many people she brought into the search crew, she would not find him. Though she needn't have worried for his safety, for he would be in the hands of Beyond Birthday.

In reality, Nate River had been in Beyond Birthday's care for nearly eight hours by the time his caregiver realized that he was missing, more than enough time to get scarce. It was a simple matter, for Beyond had snuck into the house after dark, made sure that the child would not awaken during their journey to another, only slightly nearby town, and had hi-tailed it out of town on the ski-doo that he'd borrowed from another town. Not an easy journey, though not horrible – the child was only eleven and was small as far as eleven year-olds go.

So when Nate finally did wake up, not only was he in a strange place, but he was sore and unusually groggy. He didn't open his eyes right away, but when he did, a most unwelcome sight greeted him; he was not in his bedroom among his museum-sized collection of toys, but in a small cabin-type room. There was a small kitchen area, the single bed (where he was currently), and a small area with a table and a lot of open maps and books. Nate couldn't identify the room, and came up short as to an explanation as to why he might be so groggy.

And then a figure in the kitchen caught his eye, and Nate finally realized his situation; the man in the kitchen, who he'd seen in his hometown two days previous, had taken him. This horrified the boy and all ability to speak, to scream, to cry out, left him, and all he could do was sink into the corner of the bed.

This small movement caught his captor's attention. The older male of the two let out a sigh. "You're awake, huh? Took you long enough." Beyond had a knife in his hand (he'd been chopping some kind of food item) but put it down when he walked closer to the bed Nate was sitting on. He kept his hands in sight, as if he was walking towards a cop car. "See kid, no tricks. I'm not going to hurt you, so you can relax."

Nate would have laughed, but his voice box seemed to be out of order. Instead, he tried mashing himself into the bed corner further than he was already, attempting to create distance between him and this man. This strange man, who was he?

Beyond stopped about five meters away from the bed. "Understandable," he muttered, observing the child's reaction to his approach. "Nate River, you've quite a long life ahead of you..."

At this strange remark, Nate finally found his voice (it was hiding under the pillows). "No one can truly know that for sure."

At this Beyond chuckled. "Oh you poor thing," he replied. "Scared half to death. If you're wondering why you're so groggy-"

"It's because you drugged me," Nate interrupted.

Beyond grinned. "Of course. Smart kid."

"Of course I'm smart," Nate stated dryly, still wary of his captor's close-ish proximity. "If I wasn't, you wouldn't have taken me, right?" At this Beyond's grin widened, his eyes narrowing. "And you've taken me... to what end?" Nate asked, his voice wavering slightly.

Beyond shrugged as he turned face and headed towards the table covered in maps. "In time, little genius, you'll figure it out. In the meantime, I've got some food here if you're hungry."

Nate watched as Beyond squatted by the table, hunching over it in a manner reminiscent of a crescent moon. After a moment, the small, white child concluded that this man was not lying when he claimed he would not hurt him (if he was going to get hurt, he'd have been hurt already), so Nate crawled out of his corner and climbed off the bed. He made his way over to the kitchen area where he could smell... soup? Nate glanced to the only window on the opposite end of the cabin and noted the mid-morning light.

Once he procured his lunch, he wandered over to the map-laden table still wary of Beyond. Nate was convinced he would not be hurt, but he would still keep his distance. And besides, there might be a clue as to his whereabouts on one of those maps. Or so he had thought until Beyond's voice rang out. "Our location is not marked on any of these maps. Sorry to disappoint you. I should also add that we are roughly three or more hours of a walk away to the nearest town and if you were to attempt running away, I would catch you easily. I've taken the gas out of the ski-doo, marked little traps in all directions in case you do run away, and there is no phone or Internet connections in or out of this place." Nate inwardly groaned. That wouldn't do. "But not to worry, little Natey. Once L finds me, you'll be saved from the big bad B."

At this Nate's eyes narrowed. "L?"

Beyond merely nodded as he continued his map-work. "That's right. You live in nowhere-land, don't you?" It was at this point in time that Nate noticed a small accent... A very slight, suppressed English accent. "My dear predecessor, L, is the world's best detective. He's been searching for me for roughly five days now."

"The world's best detective?" Nate asked, interestedly. "How can one possibly know that for sure?"

"Easily when it's L."

This answer surprised Nate, who was expecting a lecture from the hunched man. The young white child was itching for more information, but was more interested at getting as far away from this "B" as possible, so he retreated to the bed and ate his soup in silence, praying it wasn't poisoned.

It had been five days since L and Mello's arrival in North America, and the trail had cooled considerably. It was evening number five, and Mello was scanning through crime lists in the northern regions of BC to see if anything stood out at all. Aside from the stolen cars of White Rock, nothing new had popped up. They had yet to find the final stolen vehicle or even a person who might have seen it's thief.

Mello yawned (it had been about twelve hours since his nap, and he found himself growing tired. Perhaps it was British Columbia's incessant raining (which resulted in Ryuzaki's continual need for hot chocolate), but all this moisture had Mello tired and his hair frizzy. They had moved from LA to Vancouver roughly twenty four hours after L's call to the boarder crossing and Mello found himself disliking the city more than any place he'd ever been. Not because of the hypocrisy of the city, but because of the mental walls of its residents.

It reminded him of Wammy's.

And he missed Wammy's House with a fury. He looked around the penthouse that they'd been staying in the previous three nights and saw L sitting at a desk, hunched over his knees as usual, though somewhat more slack. Mello stood to walk over there, but paused when he heard the man mumbling in a low voice. Mello crept closer to find that L was sleep talking. Shocking. It was something Mello never thought he'd see and so he tiptoed closer for a better view.

L's eyes were shut lightly, expectedly, and his face was slack, though not as peaceful as Mello had originally expected. The way his wild black hair fell, the locks blocked some view of the detective's face and Mello thought that his idol looked more like a child than a man when he slept. With these musings, Mello listened to try and discern L's sleep talk, but all that the blond was able to make out was "B."

With this, Mello grabbed a light blanket from the bedroom and draped it over his mentor, careful to not wake him up. As he was covering L with the blanket, Mello hovered near the man's sleeping face. The dark circles under his eyes seemed almost black, the cheekbones seemed almost visible, and his mouth was thin, perpetually in a slight frown.

This was L. A man so driven that he drove his body to this. This thought struck Mello upside the head and caused the young boy to look down at himself. Skinny, barefooted, well-rested Mello. Could he truly succeed such a driven person? Not that Mello wasn't driven, but to go so far as to throwing away any thought of himself, the blond wasn't sure that he could. And then the blond turned and then made his way to the couch where he'd been sitting before. Here, he suddenly became antsy. He had to catch this B. He was causing L to stress out past the point of exhaustion. Not an easy task. So Mello redoubled his search, throwing the possibility of sleep for the next ten hours out the window and instead picked up one of the nearby cakes.

All in vain, for the young detective found nothing.

"Where could he be?"

* * *

**Thanks for reading!**


	7. The blanks begin to fill in

**I AM SO SORRY. Yeah, I know it's been a month. I've had this GIGANTIC artist/writer's block and it just won't get off my desk. This shorty chapter took me.... four times as long to write than it should have, but at least it's up. :) **

**Thank you for all your support! I'm happy to be able to share my brain-goodies with you all! I'd also appreciate it if you could continue to review and let me know what you think of each chapter. :)**

* * *

It took much preparation, but Nate was sure there was only one thing that could get in his way. He'd watched his captor for a week and found a very loose schedule resembling something like the following: Breakfast before 10AM, scouring the news stations on the television for any trace of his movements (there had been a small mention about his stolen cars, but nothing really that could lead anyone to his current location), and then, once that was done (the final news broadcast ended at roughly 8PM) the man who called himself B would make dinner and attempt some kind of conversation with his captive, who seemed to say as little as possible.

Nate had to wonder at his captivity. Why had B taken him if he wasn't going to harm, brainwash or kill him? Those are usually the result of kidnappings, usually motivated by revenge or some kind of twisted psycopathic desire... But what puzzled Nate was that B made no attempt at any of these things and had only a sketch of a theory as to what B's motivation was. In any case, Nate had no desire to stay captive and began mapping out everything he could, watching B for any hints of their location. As far as Nate could tell, they were still relatively close to his hometown but not close enough that he could escape and run back. They must be close to some town, however, because B had once gone out to get supplies and he'd gone by foot. It was the only time that B had touched Nate; he'd blindfolded and tied the small boy to the bed after breakfast and had left for about seven hours, back in time for dinner. It hadn't been pleasant, but it wasn't cruel. However, from that day, Nate had concluded that they were about three hours or so from the nearest town.

That made any attempt at escape a bit harder than Nate liked, but it wasn't impossible. Just at the right moment, in the right circumstances, Nate figured he'd be able to at least get within the town limits. Someone would surely recognize him (he'd seen his face on the news, after all, and it wasn't lost on Nate that his appearance was a bit deviant from the normal human) and he'd finally be on his way home.

Home. Something Nate missed less than he'd like to admit. There were people there who were kind to him, but he felt no real connection with anyone in that shrimp of a town. At the thought of home, Nate put a hand to his hair and twirled a lock of the snowy mop. There was just something about the idea of his home that made him melancholy and depressed. Not even one person in the town could keep up in conversation with Nate, so the boy had eventually given up trying to have any real connection with the people there.  
At this thought, Nate would sigh and glance at B. From the brief interactions they had, Nate was amazed at the sheer intelligence of the man who held him captive. This man seemed to not only be naturally brilliant, but learned as well, and, against his will, Nate felt himself drawn to this man's personality as he'd never been drawn to anyone. He was a perfectionist, unforgiving in any of Nate's methods that differed from his own, and B's own methods in gathering materials and intelligence was questionable. To him, nothing was below his dignity if it helped his goals. Finicky, egotistical and patronizing (though never towards his captive), Nate couldn't help but respect this man. B was confident and twisted, much like himself. Nate had always felt smothered by convention, and here before him was a man, brilliant as he was, that broke all the rules.

But Nate still had to escape. There was no other choice. He couldn't stay locked up in this God-forsaken cabin for the rest of his life. B had hinted that they would be found soon, but soon wasn't soon enough for Nate's liking. The day after B's trip to and from town, Nate questioned his captor again as to why he was here.  
"I suppose I should at least tell you something," B responded. "After all, if I told you nothing, then this whole plan would be for naught." He scooped a globule of strawberry jam from the jar of jam in his hands; Nate had started this conversation over afternoon tea. "What are your thoughts, Nate?"  
At this, Nate blinked and twirled his hair. "Very few," the boy answered, sipping his hot chocolate. "Only that you intend something for L."  
B laughed to himself, a terrible smirk on his face. "Yes, sort of." He stuffed more jam in his mouth (Nate had gotten used to B's strange food patterns, but it still disgusted the boy) before continuing. "I was raised in an orphanage called Wammy's House, located in England. It's a strange orphanage because it houses only the most intelligent of orphans, most having IQs over 170, some few upwards of 200. It was founded by L's adopted father, Quillish Wammy, and its purpose is to raise up the next "L." I was second in line of succession to that title for a while when I realized the stupidity of it all." B paused to slowly suck one of his sticky fingers. "You see, L is the world's best detective, solving hundreds of cases every year. He alone is responsible for lowering the world's crime rate, so it only makes sense that, once he's gone, there is someone to fill the hole, to be the next L. But I thought, 'why stop at being L? Why limit myself?' I wanted to surpass him but... He beat me."  
Nate perked an eyebrow. The statement "He beat me" carried a large amount of weight to it, though Nate had come to know B as unsentimental. "He beat you? As in, you challenged him and you lost the game?"  
"Exactly," B responded stretching an arm in a yawn-like movement, his sullen eyes focussed on the nothingness space in an area off to Nate's right. "But, I've found a way to beat him at his own game." At this, his eyes snapped to Nate.  
And Nate read them. They were victorious, power-hungry, calculating, but, above all, hopeful. Nate fully understood his captivity. "So, how can you guarantee that I'll co-operate with you?" the boy asked in a dull voice. "I'm not likely to, considering the circumstances."  
B just let out a calloused laugh. "Oh, that's true. But I know you better than that. It's not like you were hard to check up on in town. But if I talk anymore, I'll be monologuing and I'm sure you're smart enough to figure out the rest."

Though Nate had already figured it out. The whole disturbing plan was mapped out in Nate`s mind and the boy would not allow his pride to accept it. B`s plan was this: If L needed a successor so bad that he set up an orphanage for the purpose, then B would also find a successor, more intelligent and twisted than himself. Someone capable of not only succeeding B, but beating L. Somehow, B had heard about Nate River, the boy genius in an all but abandoned town in the north, and had taken him. He`d taken this boy away from the smothering environment and obviously intended to somehow convince him to take over where B left off once he was recaptured. B relied on Nate`s upbringing, his hometown`s alienation to persuade the boy to cross over to something more exciting, more worthy of his intelligence.

As much at Nate hated to admit it, the idea or challenging the world`s greatest detective was somewhat enthralling.

Despite that, however, Nate River felt no inclination to help B in his quest, and was more inclined to put his intelligence into escaping than trying to bring down the world`s security blanket.

Once B had left Nate to his thoughts, the man washed his hands and retrieved a stack of papers from his table in the living room area, plopping them down in front of the small boy. "Here," he said. "You must be getting bored."  
Nate shuffled through the stack, finding a large amount of university level questions to deal with. The boy figured that B had investigated him, finding he was easily finishing grade 12 level courses. However, the questions on the pages were far more advanced, though not impossible to Nate. After all, he'd been finding online resources of about this level for several months, challenging himself.

Could B have known?

* * *

**So there we are, another chapter up. Please to review!**


	8. Mello's nonlead

**I had meant for this chapter to be longer, but c'est la vie. Alright, so, yes, this has been a long time coming. Actually, most of this chapter has been written for... three weeks or so. However, I've got another little ficlet that I'm working on as well, which I want to start posting when I have more of it posted. I'm actually very excited about it. **

**I've also discovered the miracle of pre-planning a chapter with this new thing called an OUTLINE. So, hopefully, you'll see the benefits of that in the next chapter... **

**And, in case you're wondering, Strawberry Cheesecake (I really wish you'd log in so that I can reply to your reviews - I like chatting with everyone one-on-one), I have absolutely no intention of giving Beyond Succeeding up. Real-life has made it difficult for me to write lately, and I have a hard time writing period, so things have been slow.**

**More comments after. Read and Review, SVP.**

**--------**

Major clues had become sparse. Beyond Birthday's trail had cooled considerably, but L had concluded, after little drabbles of information had dripped into their laps, that their missing Wammy's child had run to the very tip of British Columbia. Based on the percentage that this conclusion was correct (L had said it was somewhere around 60% possible, though Mello could barely see how, with so little information, he was able to be so sure) they had moved northward quite a ways.

A little too far north for Mello's liking. The boy wasn't opposed to cooler temperatures, but negative 20 degrees Celsius was ridiculous. Snow, snow, snow, everywhere you looked and not a proper town to be found anywhere. However cold it was, and no matter how much Mello made his discomfort known, the temperature never rose. Ever. In any case, the detective and his student arrived in a small town in the northern regions of BC ten days after Beyond Birthday's escape.

At this point, Mello was working on tidbits of this case, rather than solving individual cases. These tidbits included sifting through news reports, scanning new information about criminal activity, as well as examining local news reports. This often involved going to the local grocery and picking up newspapers which he did every day. Doing this, he got to know the grocery store clerk pretty well, actually. She was a nice girl, fresh out of high school, and always gave Mello a smile on his way into the store. "In for the news again? You're a curious little guy. Shouldn't you be in school?"

At this, Mello would just grin deviously. "Probably," he'd answer as he walked towards the magazine and newspaper section. However on his third trip to the store, a flyer caught his eye. He saw it wondering why he hadn't seen it before and mentally kicked himself for it. "Hey," he called to the cashier, pointing to the flyer. "What's that about?"

The girl tossed a look to the flyer with a resigned look. "Oh, the kid went missing a few days ago. Nate River, right? Freaky little kid."

Mello stared at the poster, which showed a small boy, dressed in white to match his hair, crouched on the floor amidst an innumerable number of toys. "Really? Why was he weird?"

The cashier shrugged as she began to sweep around the front entrance of the small store. "Well, aside from holing up in his room, the kid was just smart enough to get out of school. I heard he started high school classes at six."

"So he was a genius, and it was well known that he was," Mello muttered, thinking aloud. "Are there any suspects?"

"Not really, but the lady who takes care of Nate was going on and on about this guy she saw in town before."

Mello "hmm-ed" to himself, processing. A genius boy, taken just days ago by a man who leaves no evidence even that he had anything to do with the child. "Would you mind if I took that flyer?"

"Sure thing, we have a few more here, actually," the girl replied, grabbing one from beside her cashbox and handing it to Mello. "Anything else I can do for you, sir?" she asked warmly, a hint of teasing in her voice.

To which Mello rolled his eyes and shook his head. "No, I'm good. Thanks, though," he replied shortly and he practically ran out the door. Finally, a stake in the case! Mello had finally uncovered something important! Flyer and new lead in hand, Mello practically sprinted back to HQ, bursting open the door. "L! L! I've got a new lead!" he practically yelled in excitement, his arm shaking where it rested on the doorknob.

The man turned from his computer screen, thumb at his lips, eyes wide in subtle surprise, and Nate's photo on his screen.

Mello stared at the screen, shock giving away to embarrassment and anger, his stare turning into practically a glare. "Never mind," he almost spat, to which L's head cocked sideways slightly. Mello took a deep breath and asked the pressing question, "How long have you been aware of Nate River's disappearance?"

"Oh, him," L said perkily, almost happily as he picked up the saucer of hot chocolate on his desk. "Watari has been aware of him for a few years now, his parents died." At this L sighed, "But he was kidnapped a few days ago."

"Yes, I know," Mello replied dryly, almost glaring at L, his excitement completely drained away at the thought that had been creeping up on him; L had been aware of Nate River's kidnapping for two days already, which was the exact reason why they had moved to this town in the first place making Mello's discovery old news. Mello shook his head, kicked off his boots, and slumped into the kitchen with very little energy.

As he walked through the door, he caught sight of Watari in his apron (a sight Mello still wasn't used to and didn't think he'd ever be used to) who was currently fixing dinner. The blond crawled into a chair by the counter and lethargically watched Watari make Mello's favorite soup, the aroma only slightly comforting Mello who sighed and played with the salt and pepper shakers.

Watari didn't need to ask Mello what had gone on. L was the only person who could deflate Mello so, and therefore asking what had gone on would do no good. "Well, there's water boiled if you want hot chocolate, Mello," the man stated, reiterating Mello's firm belief that chocolate did, in fact, make everything better.

At this Mello buried his face in his arms, abandoning the shakers, groaning. "Aah, I really thought I could have added something this time!" he lamented. His blond hair obscured the elder man's view of Mello's face, but it was obvious that the boy was frustrated. Watari, however, did not comment.

After all, nothing he could say would change the fact that Mello had a painfully long way to go.

After a quiet moment, Mello lifted his head from the counter and looked at the poster he'd crumpled in his hand, staring at the picture of the boy again. The cashier had been right; something about the boy was creepy Mello out slightly, be it the immense amount of white on the small boy, or his eyes, dark and unmerciful. Almost dead, the eyes stared at the camera lens with the smallest bit of life.

Yes, Mello decided that it was Nate River's eyes that creeped him out the most.

Mello then glanced at the information printed below, reading aloud. "Nate Rivers, aged 11, kidnapped January 20th. He is 4'8" tall and is extremely sensitive to sunlight. If you know anything, please call... Kind of a shrimp," Mello stated blandly. "How long have you known about him, Watari?"

"Before his parent's death was reported," the man in the apron replied. "That was about eight years ago, but he was taken into a distant relation's home before we could finish our investigation into him."

Mello nodded as best he could in his current position on the chair. Unfortunate? Maybe, Mello mused. Hopping off said chair with every intention of preparing hot chocolate, a thought hit his brain. "Watari, L believes that B kidnapped Nate Rivers right?"

"Yes, that's correct," the man agreed as he chopped carrots.

"And that's why we came here, right? Because B will be somewhere nearby?"

"Yes."

Mello went silent, thoughts glossing over his eyes, rushed over to fix hot chocolate, and scuttled out to the main room, leaving a chuckling Watari alone in the kitchen.

"Hey, L, you moved us up here because of Nate River, right?" Mello asked, gliding into the main room.

L turned his chair around, a lollipop stick sticking out of his mouth. "Yes," he answered matter-of-factly.

"Well, then, you've probably sent out search parties in all the towns nearby?"

"Of course."

"And we'll probably have no success with that?"

"Probably."

Mello fell silent for a moment, deep in thought. "You plan on investigating each town yourself?"

"I do," L answered, amusement colouring his voice. "And you'll be coming too, of course."

"Why didn't we start out doing that in the first place?" Mello asked, taking a seat closer to L, sipping hot chocolate. "It may have saved us some time."

"Well, while the search teams will not find B or any trace of him, more than likely they'll find one or two details they will deem insignificant that will help us establish a rough idea of where to start instead of meandering about aimlessly."

"Insignificant details?" Mello asked, his eyebrows dented in puzzlement.

"Yes," L answered simply while he spun his chair around to the screen. There was Nate's photo again, Mello noticed, as well as his background summery, school record, family history, and kidnapping details. Pulled up on the adjacent monitor was a complete summery of B of Wammy's House, with similar data but also a criminal check as well as various video clips of his imprisonment. "I do hope we can find him soon," L muttered, bringing his own saucer of hot chocolate (now almost empty) to his thin lips.

Mello was tempted to ask which individual he was referring to, but thought better of it. Mello nodded slightly and stared at the two individuals on the monitors. They resembled each other, though their appearances were different in every way. One was pale to the point that people might be in danger of thinking him a sheet of canvas. The other, so scarred and dark, he resembled a picture Mello once saw of a vampire. One flawless, the other crumbling, they contradicted each other. The blond creeped up to the monitors, staring at the records of the two subjects, vaguely aware that L was watching him. "Why do they feel so...similar?" he wondered aloud.

"They are similar," L replied. "Similar IQ, similar family background, both orphaned at a young age, and both alienated from normal society. They're similar in personality and preferences, and from what I can tell, they both excel in the same fields of study: math, science, and psychology."

The young blond blinked at the screens before muttering an intelligent, "Oh."

-------

**Thanks so much for reading. To answer some reviews:**

**Midnight: You think? I hope so, because it's the whole premise of this story. :|**

**Strawberry Shortcake: Haha, I was amused to see your second review. No need to worry. I may sometimes have a bit of trouble updating regularly, but this isn't one of my stories that I'll start writing and then give up on. I'm still very much chewing on this one, so to speak. :)**

**Again, thanks for reading so far! Let me know what you guys think, and in-depth input is always appreciated. :)**


	9. The Search

**Guess I'm not doing too badly, this being done so quickly. I was just in a writing mood yesterday, so I wrote this. :) I mentioned in the last chapter that I'm working on another story as well, but I'm going to wait before posting anything from it. :)**

**Reviews always appreciated, as always.**

**-------**

A beep came from the opposite corner of the table at which B and Nate sat, suddenly and without warning, a steady and annoying beeping tone came from one of the monitors B had set up on the wall opposite them. Nate looked to his captor, whose fingers had frozen in mid-transport from the jam jar to his mouth, his eyes slightly widened at the sound. Nate didn't understand what that sound was, but he was sure that he'd find out and it took a moment before B's globule of jam slid off his index and middle fingers and onto his jeans before he swore, and stomped to his feet. "We're going to have to get scarce," B muttered, dashing across the room towards the beeping monitor, peering out the window. He grabbed a box from beneath the living room table, shoving all maps and resources into it in one foul sweep without any indication that he cared for their state of being whatsoever.

Nate stared at B doing all this, brain crunching numbers as fast as his 11 year-old genius brain would allow: Likelihood of this being an area search, looking for him, roughly 85%; likelihood of B anticipating such a search, 99.999%; Likelihood of being found, 50%. This being the case, Nate would have less than two minutes to try and tip that 50-50 chance more in his favour. With minimal resources and even less time, what could Nate do?

His eye caught the knife on the table. There _was_ that.

B was quickly and systematically packing every trace of both Nate and himself into boxes. They had to leave now. There was less than half an hour before someone or multiple someones would be in that shack, and the two of them would have to disappear before the crew arrived. Once the living room was well clear of everything, B's attention was turned to the ghost-like boy at the counter whose eyes were trained on him with unblinking eyes. Oh, he was up to something. He had to be.

B ripped open the floor, revealing a trap door that Nate had not yet noticed. If he hadn't noticed in the week he'd been there, then neither would a search team who would be there no longer than 24 hours, tops. And into this hidden compartment was shoved the few boxes containing all trace of the two males inhabiting the cabin.

Next, the boy.

B approached the Nate, now sucking on an index finger, and signalled for the boy to get down that shaft. "Get down there. I'll be down in a few minutes," the older man ordered, pulling out a pair of cloth gloves from his back pocket, as well as a cloth. Fingerprints, right.

Nate did as he was told, still sucking on that index finger. He clamoured down the rickety-looking ladder into the small room below. Still unsure of B's plan, Nate crouched and began going through the seven times tables in his head to pass the time. He felt like there was more he should be doing, like trying to escape. Surely, there had to be a way.

Well, step one of his plan had been initiated, anyway. Time to let things take their own course.

B followed down the ladder about fifteen minutes later, closing the trap door behind him, lighting a torch. "Hold this and shine it on that wall," B demanded as he shoved the light into Nate's hands, motioning towards the opposite wall. Something akin to stress, though slightly more threatening, radiated from the man and Nate obeyed silently.

B began tapping on the wall, an ear pressed against it. Knock knock, knock knock, a grimace was firmly plastered on the older man's features. Nate waited, holding his index finger tightly into his pair of jeans. Knock. Knock. Knock. "Ah, there it is," B finally hissed, his eyes glued to the spot that had sounded hollow. He began pushing just left of the area, and a loose panel fell back revealing a very small passage, about two meters high and wide, roughly twenty meters long. B began shoving the boxes into the hole, stopping every few seconds to listen. Once the boxes were all in, he demanded that Nate follow and they were both inside the compartment within twenty-five minutes of the first alarm being sounded, not a minute too soon.

"Now, a few things I'd keep in mind, if I were you," B hissed to Nate once the panel was back in its proper place and one of his ears was an inch away from it, "is that if you yell for help, not only will no one hear you because both the cabin's floor as well as these panels are sound proof, but also, if you do yell, I'm going to force that tongue of yours out and chomp it out with my own teeth. Do you understand Mr. Shrimp-Genius?"

Nate stared at B in the torch's mediocre light, a chill spiking up his spine at B's tone. B had been threatening before, even antagonistic and slightly creepy, but this tone and vibe radiating off of B was nothing short or demonic, especially with his ragged and uneven breathing causing his silhouette to rise and fall dangerously. "I understand," Nate replied, his voice flat, emotionless, and betrayed none of that which he observed, for, even though he felt those vibes coming off of B, Nate was not frightened. Wary, perhaps, and not willing to go against B (Nate was sure that his captor would not hesitate to follow through on his disdainful promise), but the boy genius was not afraid of his captor. More than anything, Nate identified with him, could see more than a little of himself in the man, and Nate was not afraid of himself. He trusted himself, trusted his boundaries and his strengths, he trusted B, trusted his limits and his talents. Skewed, as they were.

For the first while, not a sound was heard. Silence ate at the two geniuses in the basement's hide-out. Finally, the muted sound of the door opening and footsteps alerted the hide-aways that they were no longer alone. Nate felt B tense and turned off the torch to reserve battery power in case they were down here longer than anticipated. "You still intend to stay here after these men are gone?" Nate asked, keeping his voice as low as possible.

"Yes," B replied shortly.

"Why?"

"If L concludes we are not here, then we will be able to stay for quite some time."

Nate put his index finger in his mouth again, nursing the fresh, small cut there. "But what if he concludes that we are here?"

B chuckled slightly before answering, "I have taken measures that will make it appear as if there is very little chance that _B_ _or Nate River_ was ever here."

Nate raised a thin eyebrow at the statement. Interesting that B did not even consider that thought as a possibility. Overconfidence or did he just know himself and L that well? "So, it will look as if someone other than us was here?"

"Yes," B replied without hesitation as he shuffled himself to a less uncomfortable position, leaning against the passage wall, next to Nate who still sat on his legs pressed against one of the boxes. For the first time since B had kidnapped Nate, they had nothing between them and were forced to be with just one another. "Yes, I've deliberately left things up there which will make it much less likely that I'm responsible for the mess, believe it or not. Or, at least, there's a 85% chance that that will be the case."

"That's a fairly high percentage," Nate murmured, leaning against the opposite wall, allowing a moment for his eyes to adjust to the very little available light. "So, who is up there? L?"

"Very unlikely," B answered as he pinched his nose between his eyes. "L doesn't often wander out from behind the computer desk. More than likely it's his private investigation squad, looking for signs of you or me. It's highly likely that he knows that your disappearance and my escape from prison are related already, especially if they were aware of you already."

"Aware of me?" Nate inquired.

"Watari works with L to find genius orphans and brings them back to Wammy's House," B explained. "Don't ask me how, but their method is pretty refined, or else they'd never have found me." B sighed at the thought, and Nate could almost feel B's anxiety leaking out of the passage, off of his shoulders. His breaths began to slow to an even pace, and his tone became less and less anxious every minute.

"Why do you say that?" the younger boy asked, a hand going into his snowy locks. Even in the dark, his white hair was visible.

"Let's just say that the people I was staying with did everything in their power to keep me… hidden, and leave it at that." He was short, and it was obvious that it was case closed.

Nate did not want to leave it at that, but supposed that it would be nosey to inquire further. If there was one thing Nate hated, it was nosey people. "Very well, then," he agreed. "Anyway, why is all of this necessary? By the sounds of things, you should be at least grateful to L for rescuing you."

"By the sounds of things, perhaps," B replied. "But I have never liked being second best."

Nate raised an eyebrow. "Second best?"

"Yes. And how better to become the best than to beat the best, defeat the undefeated, and shame the shameless? There is no better method."

Become the best, win the game, all of this struck a chord with Nate. Yes, to be the best, you must become better than the best. And wasn't that what all of life came down to? Perhaps not. "I'm afraid that, while I suppose you're right," Nate muttered, emptiness in his words, "I would not be able to truly identify. I have always been the best, have never had to battle for the spot or defend it. There wasn't a best to beat, for me."

"That's why you need to go to Wammy's House," B replied. "There, you will be the best, become better than the best, and I'll have won for it."

Perhaps this was true. Looking at it that way, Nate supposed it really didn't matter if he didn't cooperate with this man; if Nate was indeed taken to this place called Wammy's, wherever it was, then B would have essentially put him there; after all, it would be apparent he was no longer safe in the middle of nowhere, and this case will have brought him to L's forefront notice. These factors, Nate calculated, would make it very likely that he would be brought into Wammy's, if B was giving him the correct impression of how inclusion into this facility worked. B will have chosen Nate River, and if L did as well, then B will have won, because he placed him there. Essentially, he got to the boy first, so B won. If things went _very _well, and Nate agreed to be B's successor, then B's successor would be placed in an environment where he could become L's successor, thus surpassing L and then B would win the ultimate game.

Though Nate found himself not caring to that so much as wondering when he could get out of his present circumstance. Yes, he was small, and could stand in the passage easily, but it was still uncomfortable being in an enclosed passage with no light and barely any air circulation. Well, that and the man who had kidnapped him and who had likely just changed Nate's life forever was right there beside him.

Well, if that just didn't put everything into perspective, didn't it?

Minutes stretched into an hour, and an hour stretched on for four until Beyond Birthday was absolutely sure that everything was all clear. His captive's breaths had slowed and B was sure that he'd fallen asleep. If it wasn't for the absolute need for his being awake, B probably would have fallen asleep as well. "Give it another hour," B thought out loud, cracking his strained neck, crawling closer to his captive. He lit the torch so that he could see the sleeping boy.

Oh yeah, out cold. And very cold, by the looks of it. It wouldn't do if his little boy genius got pneumonia and died before the plans were through, so B took off his shirt, draped it over the boy, and sat beside him, placing an arm around the boy. The hour seemed to go by faster than the others, with the small boy under his arm, not that B liked children at all. Despite that, B found himself growing somewhat fond of this boy. How could he not, really, being so similar. But only a little fond, B told himself.

And would keep telling himself until his dying day.

But not fond enough to not shove the poor boy awake an hour later. "Wake up, shrimp," he demanded as the boy, newly conscious, rubbed the back of his head where it had bumped against the wall. "They're gone."

"Yes… Oh, I see. … Yes, I understand… Oh, that's too bad. … Send me the files, thank you."

Mello was leaning over the back of the couch, all but ignoring his present task in favour of watching L talking on the phone. It was the call he'd been waiting for for an hour and L was not a patient man. Or, he wasn't when it came to two things: his investigators being late on their reports and pastries taking longer than the appropriate amount of time being transported from the kitchen to his mouth.

The phone call puzzled the blond boy. By the sounds of things, they had found _something_, but as to what that something was, Mello couldn't put two and two together. Something did not necessarily mean that it would be helpful, but it didn't mean that it wouldn't be. After L had hung up, however, he froze in his chair, staring at the phone as if it had turned into a talking mouse in a purple tutu. Not a look Mello was familiar with or had patience for.

"Did they find something, L?" Mello finally inquired after a full minute of excruciating silence. "It sounded like they found something."

"Yes, they did," L replied shortly, sounding as if he had no intention of furthering his answer.

"What did they find?" Mello asked slowly, leaning further over the top of the sofa.

"Fresh evidence of human habitat in an abandoned cabin about twenty miles from our current location," he answered, completely monotone, still with that wide-eyed stare aimed towards his telephone. Perhaps his expression was not so much that it had turned into a talking mouse in a purple tutu, but that the phone conversation had him not knowing what to think.

In his enthusiasm, Mello leaned a tad further over the back of the sofa to get a look at the email that had just popped up on L's screen; a tad too far, as it turns out, and the sofa, carrying Mello fell over causing the boy on it to roll over the back to hit the floor with a loud "thud." The blond sprawled over the floor, rubbing his chin where he'd bumped it slightly. Watari came from the kitchen to observe what had just happened, but L took no notice of it.

"Mello, are you alright?" Watari asked, concern knitting his brow and colouring his voice.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine. We just got a phone call about the latest scene investigation, and they said they found some signs of recent inhabitation!"

Watari's concerned brow lightened and shook his head. "I see," he replied. "What have they found?"

"Uh, I don't know, L hasn't told me yet," Mello replied. "I think he's broken, because he just froze."

Watari chuckled and Mello could almost see L's thumb go to his lips. "I am not broken," L replied. "I am merely wondering at the results." He opened the email and began reading through the evidence. "The fact that there is any sign of someone living there is reason to doubt that it is Beyond Birthday, and while there are signs of habitation, nothing points to Nate River or Beyond Birthday specifically."

The excitement drained from Mello's cranium as L's words sank in. "Oh, well I guess that's true," the blond boy muttered. "But still, it's more than anything we've found so far, right?"

"Perhaps," L agreed. Or did he? Mello wasn't sure. "While it's possible that it is him, I find it equally possible, if not, more possible that it isn't him. Fingerprints were found, but they belong to the previous owner of the cabin who died almost three years ago."

Silence permeated the room, and Mello took the opportunity to set the couch up properly and sit back down on it to impatiently wait L's conclusions on the subject. It was nerve-wracking, sometimes, waiting on L's decisions, as you never could quite tell what L was thinking or what his next move would be. Often times, Mello had found that L would do the common thing in any given investigative situation. Common practises were common for a reason, Mello supposed. But roughly a quarter of the time, L would do something completely out of left field, which usually included Mello's leaving the room or getting left out of the conversation.

Mello wasn't fond of that 25%.

"Well, then, it is as Mello said: this is more to go on than we've had since moving here. There are three possibilities. One, that Beyond was never there at all, and some person has recently taken up residence there and left the premises during the investigation; two, that Beyond was there but had to leave before he could do a complete evacuation; three, that Beyond is or was there and left signs of life behind so that I wouldn't suspect that he was or is there. After all, he is aware that I am aware that he is more than a perfectionist when it comes to wiping all signs of his existence at any location." At this, he hopped out of his chair and shuffled over to where Mello was sitting, placing a hand on Mello's shoulder. "Watari, I'm going to search the cabin myself. Please make sure Mello is preoccupied during that time."

Mello gaped at his mentor, brow twisted with a mix of disappointment and anger. "What? Why can't I come? As your student, should I not be there to assist and learn?"

"Yes, that is correct," L agreed, tightening his grip on his successor's shoulder. "You will be coming with me to investigate many locations. In the future. For now, you will stay here. You still have no experience whatsoever, no theoretical training, and while the percentage of his presence at the cabin is low," L began to firm up his voice, so as to leave no room for argument, "there is still a chance Beyond Birthday will be there. It will be too dangerous."

The blond dare not open his mouth again. L had spoken, and L had spoken in _that _tone of voice. Mello did not like that tone; it meant that there was no room for argument and that Mello would get a very firm reprimand if he dare go against him. L asked Watari to begin preparations for L's search of the cabin property; though he could practically sense Mello already hatching a plan to do exactly the opposite of what he'd just been told.

Exactly as planned.


End file.
